The Prince of Conquest
by Nameless Knight
Summary: A prince of three lands wakes. Called home, his exiled ended. His arrival on the stage of war will put an end to a hundred years of conflict and the secret powers that twist it for their own end.
1. Valore, a Prolouge

Valore.

The great continent. Bounty of the earth, free with the wind, vast oceans and rivers; Fields of snow, plains of fire. So large the furthest-flung adventurers could not see its reaches in a hundred years. Where life blossomed and civilization thrived. People and animals alike in abundance.

Valore.

Wounded and scarred. Rent in twain by both a great gash in the earth and two warring kingdoms.

Nohr. Hoshido.

For near a hundred years the western and eastern kingdoms fought, made peace, and fought yet more.

Nohr, founded under faint sunlight that broke the dark skies but a third of the day. Under authority of the Dusk Dragon and its progeny, the people settled in the land to make it thrive in spite of the hardships that awaited them. These people: proud, determined and dour. They tilled the bleak fields, fished from rivers and oceans, hunted the great native beasts, and cultivated the mushrooms needed to feed its people. The rich stores of ore, common and precious, served to enforce a strong, hardy culture clad in dark metals and colorful stones.

Hoshido, where bright sun brought light mood. From the Dawn Dragon they descended, and they would bring its light to world's end. Its people, cheerful, full of life and laughter. Central and open, Hoshido made itself peacemaker in the region and forged strong bonds and alliances with its neighbors. With its bountiful foods managed by calm heads, Hoshido thrived on trade and the riches it brought.

Separated by an enormous bottomless canyon splitting Valore in half, Nohr and Hoshido flourished across the gap. They were not unknown to hostilities, to each other or the smaller nations around them. But for generations even temperaments and mutual benefits kept the demons of war from rising.

Yet war broke. As it always did. With the oldest cause of all: Those who had, and those who had not.

The usual disasters of famine and scarcity were as familiar to Nohr as breathing, but a great calamity saw its food sources cut at once. Famine struck that even the hardiest crops could not endure, water turned foul, game grew scarce, and fishing nets were pulled empty. Only trade remained, and Nohr looked to its eastern neighbor, Hoshido, to feed its starving people They obliged.

But not without cost.

Desperation would make a man do anything and death was the most desperate cause of all. While at first, the convoys of grains, rice and preserved fruits were sold at fair cost, the scent of greed wafted in the air. As Nohr's attempts to combat its famine found little success, the demand for food only grew, and prices with it. Hoshidan merchants traded their goods at exorbitant costs — costs that Nohr was all-too-willing to pay. But when the gems had been stripped from every statue, nobles garbed themselves like peasants and even the royal family's treasury weighed no more than an infant… Hoshido wanted even more.

Western Hoshido had taken in Nohr immigrants for generations, even before the food shortages in Nohr. When the famine struck, those immigrants became refugees and, when Nohr could no longer pay for grain, the problem only worsened. The Nohrian populace in western Hoshido soon began to outnumber the Hoshidian natives. Work, high to low, was filled; thievery and violence became the most commonplace trade and crime spiked.

The King of Hoshido, Jimmu, though more a man of might than mind, and action than procedure, did his best to sway the hearts of his people towards peace. But, in defiance of his royal edict, the western daimyos rounded up the Nohrian refugees and forced them back across the border. Even those who'd lived in Hoshido for years were not spared this exile. There were those who resisted. They became the first direct casualties of the hundred years' war. Barely a quarter of the hundred thousand people displaced from their homes returned alive to Nohr. Bodies hurled into the canyon, never to be reclaimed.

The enduring populace of Nohr was galvanized by the actions of Hoshido. Attempts at peace were swept aside in the fervor of revenge and the kingdom in the dark set out to conquer its neighbor in the light. The great veins of ore were turned from farming implements and cooking utensils into weapons of war. The army swelled in size with one simple decree: "those who fight, eat."

The laws of Nohr melded well with the conventions of army life, and the harsh climates of Nohr bred its people strong. Nohr marched for war, crossing the precarious few natrual landbridges over the canon and taking the Hoshidan border garrisons by surprise. Fat and arrogant, the border guards never imagined Nohr would strike and their little experience in fighting bandits availed them little against a proper army. They were slaughtered like the refugees they'd once driven away. Nohr relished in their easily-gained vengeance.

Under shroud of night and personal command of King Harald, Nohr's army took the western reaches of Hoshido in less than a week. They plundered the cities, towns and fields. Gorged on foods they could not pronounce in the native tongue and enjoyed feasts that would make them the envy of Nohr nobility. Returning tenfold the horrors Hoshido had inflicted on them prior.

It took a week for the news to reach Hoshido's king, and in the month that followed, he gathered the full strength of Hoshido, its allies, and numerous unaffiliated tribes. Two months after Nohr's invasion, the two great armies clashed. The first of many such battles.

The professional men-at-arms of Hoshido were not the overpaid watch along the border. While not a match to a soldier of Nohr in a duel, two were, and Hoshido's alliance outnumbered Nohr ten-to-one.

Hoshido leveraged its advantages well. It knew the terrain, where to place ambushes; it knew the weather, when the rains might come and bog down its enemies. Hoshido was even willing to trade lives in inordinate values because it could afford to replace its ranks. But most importantly, Hoshido could eat.

The conquered border regions were stripped bare of food to feed the invading army and Hoshido's staunch defense prevented a deeper incursion. Nohrian raiders could not recoup their cost, as Hoshido concentrated its food supplies into heavily defended supply depots that Nohr could never claim. Local game and foraging could not feed the army, and what little food spared from Nohr risked spoilage on travel. Nohr retreated from its various fronts and adopted a defensive strategy concentrated around key areas of control. The former farmers that made up a significant portion of Nohr's armies were ordered back to their usual trade and resettled the taken land.

During this time, battles lessened in scope and size. In response to Nohr's defensive posture, the Hoshidan farmers also returned home to aid in the harvests. For a time there was a shaky peace. Overtures were made between both kings, misdirection and lies that did little but make a few headless messengers. Arrogance, pride and hate buried their roots deep into the minds of every man at war.

When Nohr's first foreign harvest was to be reaped, Hoshido struck. There was no grand stratagem, just a simple application of force. Hoshido threw its whole might into displacing Nohr's expedition. Nohr was pressed on every front and the attack came at the moment the farmers were exhausted from harvesting their foodstuffs. When Hoshido broke the outer defenses the tired farmers could offer little in the way of resistance. Nohr retreated, it's formation in tatters.

Near half the soldiers on campaign did not see their homeland again. The king included. The first, but certainly not the last.

Hoshido pursued the fleeing Nohrians to the border canyon and no further. Hoshido's large army would be vulnerable if it attempted to cross any of the limited pathwayss over the Bottomless Canyon. The King of Hoshido held his people in check, and focused instead on healing the war-ravaged lands and repaying debts to foreign nations.

Nohr did much the same. Farmers returned to their steads, and laborers constructed large forts near, but not quite on, the Bottomless Canyon border. The law grew strict, and punishment for criminals grew stricter still. A martial mentality began to reform the whole country, all at the behest of the newly coronated queen, Asa.

Talk of peace and friendship went on in twisted lies as both sides prepared for the war to come. The Queen of Nohr launched carefully selected raids across the border to ascertain Hoshido's positions and goad them into crossing. "This war will not end 'til one nation stands!" Rebuffed at every opportunity, Hoshido's king made ready to invade.

King Jimmu sent elite troops to secure vital chokepoints and insure the pathways into Nohr were clear before following in with the bulk of his army. And only his army, as the nations he allied himself with saw nothing to gain from an invasion into Nohr.

Hoshido's invasion proved itself even more effortless than Nohr's. What little resistance the Hosdian border guard offered was still more than the unpopulated eastern reaches of Nohr. The king set up his supply lines and advanced deeper into Nohr at a cautious pace.

Despite the lack of resistance, Hoshido's intrusion did not boast the ease of Nohr's invasion. The Nohrian army was aided considerably by accurate maps drafted by the angry and displaced refugees, as well as old, common trade routes. Hoshido could not count this among their boons, as it was rare for a man of the east to settle in the west.

The craggy and unsuitable terrain of the kingdom of dark slowed progress even further. The samurai of Hoshido thought themselves stalwart and brave, but the cold and darkness of Nohr was something they had no familiarity with. Before even crossing blades with Nohr's army, illness took lives. Morale suffered, which only worsened as winter set in, and the supply lines were impeded by heavy snow and unsuited Hoshidan construction. Hoshido's winters were mild, and snow was naught but a fancy Nohrian tale to them. Only the heaviest of rainfalls could measure in impairment as the knee-high snowfall did.

A tenth of the king's soldiers were infirm before they even reached the first fortress of Nohr. A massive bulwark of stone and metal, a far cry from the wooden strongholds of Hoshido. Reports came in from other fronts of the same bulwarks impeding the Hoshidan army. King Jimmu weighed his options and settled in for a siege to test the defenses. He dare not risk leaving any fortresses free to strike his flank, should he penetrate deeper into Nohr's blackened heartlands.

The sieges went poorly. The snow made it difficult to even bring the weaponry to bear and the engines of war Hoshido had brought proved ill-equipped to shatter the stonework defenses of Nohr. Attempts to scale the walls, infiltrate ninjas, or perform aerial insertions found no purchase either. The invasion had ground to a halt on most fronts and King Jimmu began reconsidering his options. A few small victories eked in from other fronts, but the deeper into Nohr his scouts went, the more such forts that awaited.

The very land of Nohr would not brook intrusion. With a heavy heart, King Jimmu ordered his forces into retreat even in the midst of winter's icy talons. Whence he returned to the throne of Hoshido, he intended to attone for his mistake with his life.

He would never get that chance.

Nohr saw its opportunity, as Hoshido once did, and struck. The weakened armies of Hoshido were no match for the healthy Nohrians; it was a massacre that put the battles of prior to shame. No matter the course, no matter the time, Nohr pursued the retreating Hoshidans. The King died at some unknown time during the retreat, just one more body on the road of corpses that led back to Hoshido.

The vicious counterattack saw no end, not even when Hoshido retreated to the ruins of the supply depots King Jimmu had constructed in Nohr. Nohr's aerial forces had flanked the retreating Hoshidans and taken the depots. They pillaged what food they could and burned the rest. The Hoshidan army had thrown away its supplies to expedite its retreat and, for the first time in many of their lives, Hoshidans knew hunger the way Nohr did.

Harassed and starved, the Hoshidan army made a desperate break for freedom through the enemy's ranks. Harassed every step of the way from Nohr to Hoshido; less than a hundred thousand of the half a million soldiers who marched into Nohr returned home. And even half among that number succumbed to death by disease (or by other means) within the year.

Through the century the conflagration of conflict would spark and burn in a mighty inferno. A dozen times did Nohr or Hoshido come within a dagger stab of claiming victory, only to have it snatched away. Death and revengeance became the due and righteousness course as both nations deluded and obscured their past faults to focus on the evils of their rival nation.

These wars were not always fought with fire and steel but sometimes with words and intrigue. Each side sought to claim any advantage, no matter how slight, over the other. Coercion and bribery became common currency as alliances with lesser powers were made and broken, and lesser nations were made and broken.

Valore. The great continent! Valore! The home of Hoshido — of Nohr! Valore. A continent at war.

And through it all, waited eyes shrouded in twilight…

The end of Nohr's era of conquest would begin in the waning years of the rule of King Garon. Long had he reigned, the first Nohrian king to boast of white hairs since King Harald's father. He succeeded even in surviving his contemporary in Hoshido, King Sumeragi. Once a frontline king renowned for his prowess in battle, Garon retired to the capital of Nohr, Windmire, leaving military command in the hands of his firstborn son, Crown Prince Xander.

Across the great gulf between the nations, Queen Mitoko ruled her lands from Shirasagi, capital of Hoshido. Her ascent to the throne a bloody affair, as King Garon slew her husband King Sumeragi during peace talks. In spite of a hundred thousand voices screaming for vengeance, Queen Mitoko sought a path of peace, even after Nohr's treachery. For the first time in generations, food flowed freely from Hoshido to Nohr. Her grace and benevolence soon calmed voices of dissent in the court. Hostilities subsided, even if they did not quench completely.

But passion still burned hot in Hoshido, and High Prince Ryoma did not sit quiet. While overtures of peace were made, he fortified the border to ensure no invasion from Nohr could ever succeed. And, if need be, any invasion into Nohr would triumph where his forefathers failed.

From atop the somber throne of Nohr, the aged, but still mighty, King Garon issued a decree. His four children at his side are all-too-eager to carry it out.

From atop the golden throne of Hoshido, the wise Queen Mikoto sent a trusted few on a secret mission deep into the dark heart of Nohr. Her five children ignorant of what is to come.

To the northeast of Windmire, in the mighty fortification of Northfort, the king's fifth child thrashed in slumber…

* * *

 **AN: Hey, look, another sweeping epic of 'let's fix' Fates. Step One: Worldbuild the shit out of this thing. Let's actually name the continent to start. If even the original Fire Emblem can name it why couldn't they do it here?**


	2. Chapter 1: Nohr Dawnbreak

**Chapter 1: Nohr Dawnbreak**

"Brother!"

"Brother!"

Voices — familiar and not — called to him from beyond a black fog.

"Return to us, Brother!"

"His home is with us!"

Fighting — distant, clear. Sound of steel on steel. Their voices pierced through the darkness like a ray of light.

"Come back to us, Brother."

"He's our brother, not yours!"

His eyes were stung by barbs; his throat scorched — every breath burned.

"We are your true family!"

"We have loved you and raised you!"

The haze that entrapped him was not the gentle mists that surrounded Northfort, they were the fires of war — smoke. The reek of rot and carrion accompanied their greatest merchant and his skin blistered in the heat.

"Brother!"

"Milord!"

All the heat that stabbed at his skin was replaced with a deep chill and he awoke. His breath ran ragged, his body wet — swathed in sweat and bits of ice all while the concerned face of his maid, Flora, came to focus. Her soft features and cool demeanor a welcome contrast to the fire and smoke he suffered.

"Goodness milord, you gave me quite a fright," she said after a breath of relief. "You were thrashing in your sleep. I thought some manner of illness might have taken hold."

"I… no, just… just a bad dream." One quickly fading to the dark recesses of his mind.

"I think you're too old to give an old man such worry, Your Highness."

Gunter's gruff voice demanded attention.

Corrin pushed himself to a sitting position. "And I think you're too old to be intruding in my room," he replied, and swiveled his head to his oldest retainer.

The veteran knight gave a mirthful smirk from behind the engraved wooden headboard of Corrin's bed. "Perhaps next time you'll waken on schedule instead of giving your retainers grief." He was already kitted out in his full black plate.

Gods, was it morning already? He glanced out the iron-barred windows of his room to the typical gloom of Nohr. It was a lighter shade of gray for sure, with fewer orange spots of torches matched against the dreary mountain backdrop of the valley. "How long did I sleep in?"

"But an hour, Highness."

"Gunter."

"I think you can stand a bit of formality after the worry you caused us." He not-so-subtly tilted his head to a slightly less worried Flora.

Corrin bit back a sigh. "Very well."

"Do you recall what troubled you, milord?" she asked.

No. He'd already forgotten, whatever it was. Some small, lingering foul smell the only thing that wafted to mind. "Felicia's cooking." She was on kitchen duty today.

"Very good, Highness," said Gunter.

Though bringing up Flora's twin sister got him curious. Corrin looked around his spacious room, and there was no sign of Felicia, Lilith, or Jakob, anywhere. "Where is she? Or Lilith or Jakob?"

"When you wouldn't wake, Felicia went to retrieve some linen and water."

"And Jakob went with her so some would actually arrive," Flora added.

"Coming, my lord!" As if on cue the door to his room was kicked inwards. There stood Felicia, carrying a stack of linen from her stomach to chin, with a dripping pail of water on top with steam rising above it. "We'll have that cold beat in no time!" she boasted.

Flora and Gunter took steps back and Corrin wished he had worn nightclothes before sleep last night. His red sheets were tucked in too tightly to casually pull out and importu clothe himself with.

Felicia managed three impressive steps before tripping on the edge of the red carpet and spilling her whole load.

Thankfully the metal bucket stopped short of reaching him, and instead landed in the pile of cloth she'd brought, so the carpet wasn't completely drenched (though it did get soaked).

"Not again!" Felicia shouted on the verge of tears.

"Are you all right, Felicia?" Corrin asked.

"Ah, my lord, you're awake!" her somber mood washed away just like that. "Oh, no, now I have to clean all this up." Corrin took her attitude as sign of her wellness, even if the room suffered a sudden draft.

"That you do, Felicia," said Jakob, walking in behind her. His hand carrying a more modest burden of one hot water bucket and two towels. "Though I see both of our aid was unneeded. It is good to see you awake, Your Highness."

"I appreciate the concern nonetheless," Corrin answered. If the water was warm enough he might skip a trip to the bath today too.

"I live to serve, Your Highness."

"M-me too!" Felicia added on.

"Than perhaps I needn't remind you?" he trailed off. All the "highnesses" and "lords" grew tiring after so many years.

"Now, now," Gunter said, moving to the foot of Corrin's bed. "I think we'd be in more trouble if we didn't today." He settled his hands in behind his back.

That popped an eyebrow of intrigue from the bedded prince. He wasn't expecting another family visit for at least two days and Elise wasn't much for getting stuffy with titles. "Did Xander drop another surprise visit on you?" Not that he minded sparring sessions from his big brother.

"Of a sorts, Your Highness." That same mirth from earlier took old on the knight's lips. "His Majesty has deemed it time to end your seclusion. You are to return to Windmire today."

"Father!" Corrin threw off his sheets without concern and scrambled to the end of his bed. "I can finally leave Northfort!?" He had to repeat it — make sure it was true!

"Yes, Your Highness, indeed." Gunter replied with a wide smile. "We only just received the word, but your long solitude is finally at an end. Your royal siblings are scheduled to arrive sometime around noon to escort you to Windmire personally. So, I suspect we have less than an hour before they arrive."

"Yes!" Corrin cheered and fell back on his mattress. "Yes!"

"Quite, sir, but I think some decorum is in order."

"Eh?" The question stunned Corrin for a moment before a rather pointed stare from Gunter clarified. "Oh, yes." Corrin sheepishly pulled the covers back around his nearly-naked body. He spied glances at the ladies. Flora had averted her gaze long ago but Felicia barely managed to hide her interest by turning back to her mess. The light tresses of a blush still on her face.

"Now, as for Lilith, before we were so… swayed," Gunter pushed things back on station. "She has taken over cooking duties for the day. I have instructed her to prepare your favorites, Your Highness."

So he could actually get breakfast today _and_ it was it his favorite? This was shaping up to be a wonderful day! Nightmare aside. And even that was already well in hand. "Thank you, Gunter."

"I live to serve, Your Highness. Now," he faced the serving staff — and Jakob in particular. "Make sure His Highness is outfitted correctly."

"I can dress myself, Gunter."

"That you _can_ Highness, but Jakob will ensure it is done properly."

"I wanted my cape on the wrong shoulder."

"As you've assured me fifty times, Your Highness."

Corrin couldn't fight a sigh this time and fell back on his mattress. "Fine, fine." He wouldn't be winning against Gunter today and he was too delighted to continue fighting anyway. Though considering Xander that was pretty likely anyhow. "Let's hurry this up so I can greet my family properly."

"Very good, Your Highness. Ladies, we depart."

"Huh? What, b-but the mess…" Felicia pouted. If she waited, the hot water would seep into the carpet and become difficult to clean (and nothing ever dried out properly in Nohr weather).

"His Highness needs his privacy."

 _Except when my life is at stake._ "No, no, we can just use the room divider." Corrin glanced over at the foldable heavy wooden "doors" dominating a corner of his room.

"So be it."

"Thank you my lord!" Felicia bubbled out.

"Now, now, avert your eyes."

"Oh!" Her not-quite faded flush brightened again. "Of course. Forgive me, my lord."

Corrin simply nodded for absence of anything to say back. Felicia and Flora kept to their aversion as Jakob "escorted" Corrin behind the tall divider. He set the bucket down and wetted one of the towels. "Flora, soap!" he said, and on demand a bar just flew over the top, and landed in Jakob's outstretched palm.

Jakob did his duties and the night sweats, melted ice and grime was cleaned and Corrin felt a wash of relief. Jakob dried him off following before departing. He moved the room's full-body mirror into view along with an appropriate outfit and followed that up with the armor stand Corrin's battle gear rested on. It didn't take long for Jakob's swift hands to get him fully dressed and ready for battle.

"Splendid," Jakob beamed with pride as he presented Corrin to the others.

"He's not wearing shoes," Gunter pointed out.

"He never wears shoes."

 _It feels wrong to wear'em._

Gunter pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're proud of this… work?"

"This perfection? Yes."

"So be it." Gunter smirked. "Flora."

His maid stepped forward. "The clasp for milord's cape is loose." She tugged on the bronze clasp on top of his chest and tightened his azure cape. "This armor is not as polished as it should be." She brought a towel from seemingly out of nowhere and began removing a few hair-thin blemishes on the bright grey segments of his armor that covered his arms and legs. "There's strands of hair everywhere." She pulled out a few strands of Corrin's cream-white hair from between the black plates guarding his stomach. "And milord's hair is quite the mess." She brought out a brush and quickly cared for his mildly long spikes.

"Th-those are all minor details."

"Minor details are a maid's business."

"Easy, there's no need to compete," Corrin moved in to mediate this before it worsened. "I appreciate what you've all done for me. I would have taken too long by myself, Jakob, and your fine eye for the small things is greatly helpful, Flora.

Both of them answered with a "Thank you, my lord."

Gunter nodded at his peacemaking. "Make sure you're comfortable before we move out, Your Highness."

"Of course, Gunter." Corrin stepped back in front of the mirror. The typical pale Nohrian countenance greeting him along with the atypical red eyes and pointed ears unique to him. No one at the fort, none of his siblings, not even his distant memories of his father, had features quite like this. Every time he did notice them, he always wondered what his mother was like. She didn't even have a barely-remembered memory like Father. His siblings and retainers remained as impregnable as Northfort when he pressed on about her.

Jakob closed the divider, letting Corrin take in a calm view of his familiar retainers — his friends. He didn't know how many would follow him to Windmire, if any. He wanted to enjoy them for every second he could.

Gunter armored, as Corrin was, in well-fitted plate. Flesh and steel in equal measure scarred by war. A grizzled but still kind face matched with black armor that had lost its midnight luster from long use. A veteran through and through, and more than a match for anyone in the fort half his age, (even with a few streaks of white showing up in his slicked back lilac hair). Corrin was deeply grateful for all the instructions in combat — and life, he'd received from Gunter.

Jakob took up position alongside Gunter once his task was done. He placed his arms behind his back as he did, hiding the black metal gauntlets that sprung out from underneath the puffy sleeves of his white dress shirt. He must have noticed Corrin was looking, as he puffed out his chest. Which was rather funny compared to Gunter's broad-shoulders and Jakob's slimmer profile. But it did draw Corrin's eye to the diamond patterned undervest he wore, and the purple-lilac color pair it went with. It matched with the ribbon Jakob used to braid and tie his greyish hair with. A white ascot tie came together with a cerulean gem brooch with a brass frame, a frame which matched the buttons on the sleeveless black overcoat with purple trim he wore over it. Purple sheaths for daggers hung off his thighs which were covered by black pantaloons, and below that was knee-high armored riding boots. Even though he never rode.

Flora joined the line of his retainers following him. She lacked the overt displays of a protector that Gunter, and Jakob had, but hidden in her black one piece dress was an arsenal of weapons and utilities. From her white half-apron to white laced headdress, to the thigh-high black stockings or her armored boots Flora was always ready. She settled into a more resigned stance, rather than Gunter or Jakob's forthright ones. She kept her blue eyes on him, looking for any flaw to correct.

Felicia finished with her task and rejoined her sister. Adorned almost the same as her twin. Save for the brooches around their necks. Felicia's was blue, the same color as both sisters' eyes and the twin-tailed hair of Flora. Flora's was red, the same color as Felicia's high-pulled ponytail. They would always have a reminder of each other.

Perhaps he should get something as well… It wasn't out-of-line for him to make requests of Daniel the blacksmith. But, he simply didn't have the time. He might not even get through his morning meal before his family arrived.

"Everything looks good," said Corrin. "Let's get down for breakfast."

* * *

 **AN: This isn't gonna be a one-to-one dialogue transcribe. I've learned my lesson on that front. Male Corrin taken to balance out with Azura.  
**


	3. Chapter 2: Family Fun

**Chapter 2: Family Fun**

Lilith and the rest of the serving staff had the feast ready by the time he arrived in the dining hall. Surf and turf prepared with beef and lobster, veggie chowder and tangy coleslaw to accent it. There was even a bottle of mead prepared. Which he didn't accept in lieu of a spot of excellently brewed dragonwell tea. The full, nutty and buttery drink finishing the meal off excellently.

It was a wonderful meal (and gesture) to start the day with, if heavy. (Though it was a shame no one else ate when he offered to share.) Lilith had certainly outdone herself. And taken it even further, with an inspired idea to preserve the leftovers just in case the chefs at Windmire weren't capable of preparing food to his tastes.

He thanked her deeply for everything. As well as Flora, who froze the meals.

Then he helped express this by helping load the preserved food unto one of the carriages in the fort's inner stables (over their objections, but he was still lord of his prison). It might be the last time he saw the horses of Northfort, and they were as much his companions as anyone else inside the walls.

With morning meal and its leftovers settled, Corrin set out towards the fort's gate to greet his brothers and sisters as soon as possible. Even the typical Nohr chill wouldn't dissuade him!

He kept his eyes sharp for any sign of their arrival. He wanted to go wait in the outer gatehouse, but he also didn't want there to be any excuse for him to be restrained in Northfort a moment longer than he had to. So, only a few steps out on the great stone bridge spanning the Northfort pit, he waited.

And waited.

And grew cold.

And grew worried.

Northfort was close enough to Windmire that he could see the outer walls of the capital from his room in the fort's tower on a clear day (as clear as Nohr got, anyway).

But, despite that, they weren't here. Had Father reconsidered and recalled them? Had something waylaid them and they needed help? He knew his family could handle themselves in a fight, but that didn't mean he didn't worry for their safety regardless.

He started pacing about between the gates. The ironwrought braziers' flames wafting in the cold wind. Cord and Bord, the guards, were clearly getting cross at the situation, but dared not raise a word of protest.

"Perhaps you've had enough cold for the moment, Your Highness," Gunter broke the silence.

"No, no, I'm quite all right," Corrin replied. "If any of you feel the need to warm yourselves by a fire, go right ahead."

Bord and Cord ran inside faster than a speeding horse.

"I'd be remiss to leave you alone, Your Highness."

"The cold doesn't bother me, my lord!" Felicia boasted.

"Nor me, milord," Flora added.

 _That's the Isslid for you._ "Jakob, Lilith?"

"It'd take more than a little cold to keep me away from your side, Lord Corrin," Jakob declared.

"M-me too!" Lilith finished. Though it had to be hard on her. She just wasn't as heavily dressed as them, with only a blue one-piece dress and frilly white apron. She had her headdress and boots, but her hands were bare and already shivering just a tad. But the amber in her eyes told him she wouldn't leave even as ordered, so he let his other blue-haired retainer stay.

He was blessed to have such loyal retainers—friends. Life in Northfort had been tolerable because of them. His home; his prison. Even as he detested the place, it was the only home he ever knew and loved it all the same. Every brick, every door and metal fitting was already engraved in his mind. He'd walked these halls in the darkest nights of Nohr without missing a step.

This place would always be a part of him, for good or ill.

Freedom was just. so. close. The whole of Nohr was just on the other side of the pit. Windmire was always visible from his room. But the windows barred with iron. The pit — so deep he could spend a day scaling down. He couldn't escape through the bridge no matter how he tried to persuade them. But soon. _Soon_ , there wouldn't be familiar stonework. Soon he would have windows with only glass and frame. Soon, he could meet new people.

Much as he liked all fifty-seven people working in Northfort, he'd grown as familiar with them as he did the building they lived in. All their quirks and talents and skills. Julian talking sweet with Rena, the wyvern sisters, Alan and Samson's rivalry. He'd miss'em all. Though, his siblings' retainers sounded like a fun bunch to meet. Every time his family dropped by they had some new entertaining story about the antics of their followers. They were as fond of their friends as Corrin was of his.

"Your Highness," Gunter interrupted, "perhaps we could continue this vigil from one of the turrets?" repeating himself. "We could assuredly make it down to ground floor before your royal siblings traverse the bridge."

"I'm fine, Gunter." Corrin curled his toes. Maybe boots weren't such a terrible idea after all... "I'll have to deal with worse weather than this one day, won't I?"

"A sad fact of Nohr."

Why did their ancestors even settle in this land? Corrin looked back at the bridge. Nothing.

Footfalls reached his ears but he was too engrossed to turn his eyes on whomever it was. If they wanted his attention they'd speak.

Arms slipped under his own and pulled him back into a soft embrace. "Aw, it seems you missed your big sister." Camilla's hands went upwards and pinched at his cheeks. "You're sooooo cute!" her voice serene as a Northfort night.

"A little warning next time, Gunter." Corrin slurred out while his older sister played with his cheeks.

"Her Highness's arrival was a surprise to us all," his retainer answered.

 _See if I offer you breakfast again_ , he grumbled in his thoughts. Camilla dropped her grip on his suddenly-sore cheeks and pulled her arms out — only to spin him around face-to-cleavage. The hugs he appreciated. This… this less so.

"Look at you," she said and started to grope his arms. "You've become such a fine young man."

"You saw me last week, Camilla." He looked up into her purple eye (the other obscured by long strands of her lavender hair).

"A week without you isn't much of one," she feigned pouting.

She was gesturing for a compliment. "You are as lovely as ever, Camilla." She also hadn't changed much in a week.

"Thank you, Corrin." She gave him a small smile. "Though I would appreciate it if you praised my fighting once in awhile."

"I will once I see you outside a spar. Promise." Camillia fought more fiercely than her wyvern, and Hildr was ornery on a good day. Which was doubly impressive with her outrageous outfit. While she kept her arms and legs armored in black Nohrian plate, her thighs and stomach were completely exposed and which made her lower smallclothes stick out. It was… distracting. Which may well be the point.

"That should come soon enough."

The fire eroded away by Nohr's chill ignited again! "I can… finally help." He'd sat her useless in Northfort while his siblings put themselves in danger on the frontlines. He could finally protect them.

"Father shouldn't have isolated you for so long in the first place."

"I'm sure he had a good reason," he lied. "I'm just glad to finally get a chance to see Nohr."

Camilla pulled out a map of Nohr loaded with black circles. "There are so many places I've always wanted to visit with you."

 _Where did she even pull that from?_ Corrin shook his head at the answer he didn't want to hear and looked at the map more closely. There were so many black circles Camilla might have well circled all of Nohr and saved the ink. "Where don't you want to take me?"

"I'm gonna show you the world!"

She was really making up for lost time and—a realization hit Corrin. Camilla had come up from behind him. "How did even you get in here?"

"Oh," she acted like the very question was the greatest surprise in her life, "why, I knew you'd be waiting for us, darling, so, I just flew over the pit to get to you before Elise did."

 _Oh, of course._ So, anyone could have warned him as well. Were they getting him back for worrying them this morning? "How far behind is everyone else?"

"Hm? they're already riding over the bridge."

Corrin spun around fast enough to hurt his head. There they were, just coming through the outer gatehouse. Elise on her pony was already well out in front, and leaving Xander and Leon well behind.

Camilla wrapped her arms around him again. "Awww, I think she's jealous of our special bond."

Elise sped up.

"H-hey, you have to share me today."

"Do I have to?" She could be more childish than Elise sometimes.

"Well, unless you want Elise to run us over…" he let her own imagination take over at that point. Not that he believed their little sister would do that.

"Oh, very well," her disappointment bordering on a pout as she slowly pushed away.

Elise didn't slow down.

 _What's she doing?_

Elise swung her leg over and sat side-saddled.

 _She couldn't possibly be_ — Elise leapt off before he could even finish thinking she couldn't possibly be thinking of doing that.

She came flying in arms and smile first and Corrin had to pivot and grab her in a spin to make sure she didn't hurt herself.

"Hi, Corrin!" she said as she span around. "Yay, you caught me!"

"Elise, that was dangerous!" he warned her as he slowed down and let her feet touch the floor.

"I knew you'd catch me." She pushed forward and fully embraced him.

 _Well, yeah._ "Of course, but you could have hit my armor." He knocked on his chest plate above her head for emphasis.

"Oh, I didn't think about that." She paused to consider her mistake. "But it didn't happen, so don't worry about it." And blew right past it.

Corrin shook his head at Elise's irresponsible act. "And what about Eir? Did you think about her?" Thankfully, Elise's brown pony had stopped of her own volition before she ran over anyone.

"Eir's a good girl, she wouldn't do anything bad." Elise redoubled her hugging. "And I have to make up for Camilla getting hugs in first."

"It's not a competition, Elise," Camilla blatantly lied. He'd spotted those "hug charts" of hers.

"Ohhhh?" Elise slid into a mischievous smirk and started hugging him even more. "Then you're not jealous?"

"Not in the least," Camilla was pouting now.

Time to stop this. "Hey, don't worry, plenty of time for hugs in the future. Let's save some for later."

Xander and Leo rode up to cut the conversation short. The family was all here! Save for Father.

"Elise, that was exceptionally dangerous," Xander rebuked her.

"When are you going to learn to act your age, Elise?" Leo needled her. "You're a young lady now, such acts are unbecoming of Nohr's royal family."

"So's having your collar inside-out."

"What?" Leo's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?" He started groping around his back.

He was close enough for Corrin to confirm it. The large pop-out collar was showing black inside, purple out. Just as Elise said. Corrin shot his brother a sympathetic glance. _Been there, Brother._ But everything else seemed to be in order. His black plate with gold trim were still spotless and not a hair on his blonde head was out of place beneath his band. Though his brown eyes were in an awful fright from embarrassment.

"My collar is not the point here," he said, after settling down.

"Corrin already told me it was dangerous and stuff, I won't do it again."

"I'd prefer if you didn't require such a lecture in the first place," said Xander. "But it's good you listen to at least one of us."

"Oh, I listen plenty," Elise grinned.

"Perhaps I should clarify that as understanding." Xander narrowed his eyes at their little sister's rebellious air. "But let's not ruin the mood. It is good to see you again, Corrin."

"You too, Brother. All of you." He gave eye contact with each of them to double up on that.

"That goes for me as well," Leo added on.

Corrin shot straight to the heart of the matter. "I can finally leave Northfort?"

Gunter, Camillia. He just wanted to hear it, again and again until he couldn't see these walls anymore.

"We're here to escort you to Windmire ourselves. Not even the Dawn Dragon could stop us from being a family again."

He could feel the tears coming on. Such behavior was improper in front of his retainers and he didn't care. He'd been indecent in front of his maids this morning and this was far less embarrassing. "What of my retainers?" Corrin swallowed to get himself under control. But an unquenchable anxiety still held him.

"You're to bring your full entourage with you to Windmire. The Guard Captain will remain on duty as is."

He stopped himself for cheering out loud at the notion. It didn't stop his retainers from making their own cheers and relieved sighs, however. He wasn't gonna have to leave anyone behind. Well, Captain Ogma and his men, but his best friends were coming.

"Thank you, Lord Brother." It couldn't have been easy convincing Father to grant him such a boon.

"Oh?" Xander smiled gently at the title. "You mind your manners well, Corrin. Good. Those formalities will serve you well in Windmire." Xander took his eyes off him and onto his retainers. "I extend my personal thanks to the lot of you for standing by my brother's side during his stay at Northfort. I request wholeheartedly you continue to show him such devotion beyond these walls."

Gunter clasped his mailed fist to his chest. "The honor is mine, Your Royal Highness. I'll serve His Highness Prince Corrin for whatever years I have remaining."

Jakob bowed. "An army couldn't keep me from fulfilling my debt to my lord. You've nothing to worry about from me, Your Royal Highness."

"I-I'll keep doing my best!" Felicia curtsied.

"It has been a pleasure serving His Highness." Flora curtsied as well. "I will continue to do so to the best of my abilities."

"Um, m-me too!" LIlith added on a curtsy of her own.

Xander acknowledged their responses with a single nod. "You are blessed to have such loyal retainers, Corrin."

Yeah, he was. "They're exceptional."

"Now," Xander's face lost its levity to a sour thought, "there's one other matter we must clear before we depart for Windmire."

"Oh Xander," said Camilla, "can't you just say her passed and save us the time?"

 _This is another sparring session isn't it?_

Xander shook his head at her question. "Corrin's relationship with His Majesty should not be founded on a lie. If we send him out unprepared, we'd wish we kept him in Northfort."

"I think you're underestimating me, Lord Brother."

"Then prove it." Xander withdrew a sheathed bronze sword from one of Bertholdt's saddlebags. "Prove what Gunter's taught you has merit!"

 _I could do with a work-out after that meal._ "Don't be sore if I win." He stepped forward to take the offered blade. Light, long and broad. He inspected the blade, found no flaws in the green finish. Newly forged, was it?

"Don't mistake arrogance for confidence," Xander retorted, drawing a matching blade. "Or have our past bouts slipped your mind?"

 _Not a single one._ Corrin grinned. He steadied his breathing. _One. Two._ He dropped into his combat stance: free left hand forward and crooked across his chest, weapon in the right back.

"An adequate stance, if you bore a shield," Xander pointed out. "I shall not move from this spot. Come, the first move is yours."

Rushing in was exactly what he should be doing.

"Go, Corrin!"

"You can do it!"

"I believe in you, milord."

Amidst the cheers he kept his level head. He studied Xander. Recalling each and every spar he'd had with his elder brother over the years. Every trick he'd tried and every move Xander had taken.

The first two concerns were Siegfried and Bertholdt. But Xander had chosen to leave his signature sword undrawn in the name of fair play. The only way Corrin had a chance, with Siegfried in hand, Xander was near-invincible. And maybe outright invincible with his mount taken into account. Bertholdt was Xander's chosen steed for a reason: The black stallion could run a day in its black armor and pull off acrobatics that left Corrin baffled. Even if he didn't move, this was still an uphill (uphorse?) battle to fight.

And the man riding atop had proven himself the mount's master time and again. Xander sat with an upright confidence that he'd not take even a scratch in the match. His blade was held low, pointed at Corrin; his elbow bent, ready to thrust the moment Corrin made a move. With Siegfried, that stance was a devastatingly powerful combination of defense and offense. But even without it, Xander's defense was strong.

Getting past Xander's bladework, would be trying to sneak a slash through the thick black plates protecting his brother. Thicker than the plates the heavy armor knights wore. The only vulnerable spot was his head. But Xander knew that. Every glance he sent at his older brother was met by Xander's brown eyes. And those eyes were always directing him upwards.

His hair? Sure, Xander's blonde hair was fabulous, wavy, feathered; but not of interest. The circlet? The wavy black piece of metal was Xander's crown. That was it. That was his goal. But how to get it?

Always serious Xander. Always on guard. Always ready. As impenetrable as Northfort. But Corrin knew Xander just as well as Northfort. How serious he was. How on guard and how ready.

There was a path to victory behind it all.

He took one last deep breath before announcing, "Here I come!" He had to strike fast and sloppy. He rushed forward and Xander crooked his arm back even more.

Brothers struck.

Corrin's swing went overhead while Xander struck towards middle blade with precision. The two weapons clashed and Xander's better position left Corrin reeling.

He pivoted on his back foot and used the momentum gained by Xander's thrust to swing in from below.

Xander could not quite defend against such underhanded strike as well as before. He moved his sword aside to blunt the force of the swing and Corrin pulled back.

"Your back was wide open for that maneuver," said Xander. "If I'd struck, this would be over already."

With Siegfried, yes. The focused magic or even the sword's tip could easily pierce Corrin's armor. But a bronze blade, at that angle, at that position? No chance.

Corrin readied himself again, grasping the grip tightly in both hands before stepping forward for another overhead swing. Xander received this one even better, parrying it, opening up Corrin for a counter.

As he intended. Corrin ducked low, forced Xander to shift his arm upwards to compensate, allowing Corrin to revive his defense (as it were) and block Xander's thrust with the blade flat. Corrin twisted his grip, repelled the strike—only for another to come. Quick, but light, a test.

Corrin blocked. Again, and again. This test continued for eight strikes before Xander reared back and struck at Corrin's weakest. Right above the left of the crossguard. It was a good solid strike to Corrin's shoulder and he dipped back from the pressure. Corrin brought his sword low in response, slung across his aching shoulder.

"Your defense is not without merit but far from extraordinary."

Wouldn't be long before he was eating those words.

Corrin took a breath and shifted his stance. Readied his sword with both hands once more, gathered his might, and swung back. Xander met his blade in the middle and the two locked. Bertholdt evened out—surpassed—the advantage Corrin garnered with two hands, and Xander began to overtake him.

Corrin feigned being overpowered and stepped back, Xander took the bait and struck back. He ducked, narrowly making it under Xander's swing, and dashed between Bertholdt's legs. The stallion snorted, too well-trained to panic, and Xander too cautious to attempt anything. Corrin slipped through and slide around, facing Xander's offside. But Xander had his blade in position already and a thrust followed.

A hard hit to the chest — his breath knocked away but not his spirit. Corrin stood his ground. He grabbed the weak of his sword and pushed it upwards against Xander The conflict forced Xander's arm back once more and gave Corrin his chance.

He grabbed unto the strap holder of Bertholdt's saddle and half-pulled half-leapt upwards. His feet found purchase on the saddle's stirrup and Xander's foot. Both of them were so unbalanced Xander could not make a proper attack back. Even a sloppy thrust would have seen Xander's sword run straight through Corrin's eye. But he wouldn't do it. Xander wouldn't kill family. The precarious set-up led to Xander withdrawing his blade, for the moment.

That didn't mean Xander was without defense. His free left came down like a blacksmith's hammer on Corrin's shoulder. It hurt like hell, even through the plate, and nearly knocked him off, but Corrin bit through it and aimed upwards. His thrust was poor but more than enough against an exposed head!

If that was Corrin's intent.

Xander casually shifted himself backwards, which delayed a renewed offense with his sword. Exactly as Corrin wanted. He flicked his wrist and threw the sword away — grabbed for the crown!

Xander saw it coming — _knew_ it was coming. He wanted Corrin to aim for the crown, did everything but order him to do it. And knowing where your weakness was meant you knew where your opponent would strike. Xander's hand lashed out like lightning and clamped Corrin's wrist like a vice. He crushed his wrist, readied the pommel to smash Corrin off and declare victory.

 _Strike where your opponent does not suspect._

Xander's iron grip meant one other thing. Stability. The attempt to restrict his mobility only increased it — Corrin dropped his left hand grip on the strap holder and darted for the hilt of Siegfried!

The very last thing Xander ever expected. It so surprised his brother that Corrin had half unsheathed the royal sword of Nohr before Xander even let go of his bronze sword. Too slow. Xander's response was too slow and Corrin pried the blade free completely.

Now he just had to free himself.

Xander tightened his grip in response and his other hand reached over and grabbed Corrin by his front cape. He pulled Corrin in, slammed him against Bertholdt's armor. It barely hurt but the position was terrible. He couldn't posture his feet upwards to push off. He had to think of something else.

 _Strike where your opponent does not suspect._

Corrin angled Siegfried up and thrust at Xander's left armpit. One couldn't armor joints. It didn't matter. Xander dropped his grip on Corrin's cape to deflect the thrust over his stomach and seize control of the grip.

That mattered.

Corrin dropped one foot from the stirrup to rise up solely on the other. He stood near eye-to-eye with his brother before setting his free foot on Bertholdt's side and pushing off. The force gave him leverage enough to stay steady as he moved his second foot up — push off with both.

Xander couldn't keep his hands locked as they were. He may be taller, but his arms weren't longer or stronger than Corrin's legs. The younger prince broke free.

And landed flat on his ass. _Damn that hurts._ Hardly a glamorous move, but he'd taken his brother's sword with him and, with it, victory.. Black, trimmed with golden edge and grip. Deceptively light, as it lacked a fuller and crossguard. Yet, even unattuned as he was, Corrin could feel the power within the blade humming about. Power he's seen unleashed a great deal many times.

"Reckless, dangerous, needlessly risky, your bladework was adequate if unremarkable and your defenses were mediocre. Thievery unbecoming of Nohr royalty." Xander softened. "Well done. It is dangerous to be too committed on a strategy in light of the ever-changing conditions of battle. You adapted to the situation at hand and changed tactics accordingly. Flexibility is a vital component of command and you showed that in excess. Flawed, yes, and reliant on the conditions at hand, but all battles are as such. I declare: victory is yours."

Everyone cheered for him.

Corrin dropped the breath he'd hadn't been unaware he was holding. Xander practically gave this away and even then it was like scaling a tower. With Siegfried, or if he'd attacked for real, or if he'd just moved Bertholdt… A thousand things that didn't come true could have kept him in Northfort. He was finally free.

"Now, if I may have my sword back."

Corrin chuckled. "Of course."

* * *

 **AN: Thanks for readin' folks.**


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